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He understood why she wanted to be the greatest hero ever. For her mother, who gave her life to protect the world and all of them. For Kjelle, who'd taken a dagger to the back to protect Cynthia herself from the enemy. For Lucina, who needed the burden of being the world's hero lifted from her shoulders. For her little sister, who held no memories of a life beyond their father.
But every day as he watched her from behind the comforting shade of his mask and Minerva, he would ache to tell her she didn't need to try so hard. Not because he thought she couldn't handle it, not by a long shot; after Kjelle she was one of the most resilient fighters in their little army. No, his reason was more selfish. More biased.
You have always been a perpetual ray of sunshine in my life. Then, like an idiot, he'd told her she was too hard to be around and run away before she could see his cheeks turn the most embarrassing shade of red. She doesn't know why, and that's the way it should be. When he'd shut off his feelings after the deaths of his parents, he'd shut them off for everyone. No exceptions.
But certain feelings just couldn't be shut off, only carefully hidden. And as he watched her, listened to her grand speeches, he tried to quiet the part of him that wanted to tell her she didn't need fancy speeches of grand entrances or pretty lance work.
She hadn't needed them when she'd cured his fear of heights, and she didn't need them now.
You're already a hero, Cynthia, can't you see? Only a hero would not only keep his embarrassing secret but take him for clandestine rides on her pegasus until he felt comfortable in the air. Only a hero would be firm and insistent but gentle, taking him every chance she got but letting him down or skipping a day if he wasn't feeling it. Letting him hold onto her so tightly he wondered how she could still breathe.
A ray of sunshine. She had been then and she still was now. And light was a scary thing to someone who made it their life's mission to stay in the dark.
"I am Cynthia, dire heroine of the bright future!" he heard her call out. "Hm, no, that doesn't work...Cynthia, bright heroine of the dire future? Except it's not gonna be dire if we save it! Aww, there's something missing..."
"Ahem." Before he could stop himself he was stepping out from behind Minerva, walking over to her. "I...may have a suggestion, if you don't mind." Instantly her face brightened even more (if such a thing were possible) and she did a strange little hop-step.
"Gerome! Where did you come from? Oh, never mind, the important thing is you came to me for once! I thought you were trying to avoid me!"
"I was. But...I just happened to be passing through." He adjusted his mask, feeling it slip down his nose. "You're trying to come up with a new nickname again, I see."
"Not again! None of those actually stuck, I just want one that will for once! Something everyone will always remember!" she chirped. "So what's your idea? I didn't think you were interested in this stuff but if you wanna help, go ahead!" Even her voice was full of sunshine, warm to the point where he actually felt his skin prickle. Don't lose your cool, Gerome, you don't want to look foolish in front of her.
"Well, not so much an idea for a nickname as...a suggestion." Fool! What are you doing?
"Oh...?" She cocked her head to the side, pinkish pigtail brushing against her shoulder. "You mean for a new entrance? Or a name for my weapon? I never thought about doing that before, but Owain got me really into it!"
"No, nothing like that." He swallowed, moving a step closer to her. "Cynthia, the truth is..." And he froze, his heart pounding uncomfortably in his ears. You don't need fancy nicnkames or speeches or entrances, you're already the perfect hero! But his tongue refused to vocalize those thoughts and he backed away. "Never mind. I should see to Minerva." Cynthia's face fell and she put her lance down, grabbing his hand. Even through the thick glove he wore he could feel the heat from her fingers and he had to force himself not to pull away.
"Are you running away from me again? Why do you always do that?" she demanded. "I thought you said you didn't hate me!"
"I don't! Look, Cynthia..." He clenched his free fist, feeling the mask begin to slide down his nose again. "The truth is, I know nothing of your...tastes," he sighed. "I didn't have any ideas whatsoever."
"Then why did you say you did, huh?" she asked, her grip on his hand still vice-tight. Because just thinking about you turns me into an idiot, that's why. He pushed the mask up again, fighting the warmth threatening to flood his cheeks.
"I don't know," he said. "Maybe..." And his voice dropped, so low even he could barely hear the next words from his mouth. "Maybe I just wanted an excuse to talk to you."
When he dared to look at her again, though, she seemed surprised, indicating that maybe she had heard him. I thought only Taguel had such sharp senses!
"Really...?"
"Yes, really." He sighed again, burying his face in his free hand. "Cynthia, when you said you loved me earlier-"
"Twice, remember? And I still do! Just so you don't forget!"
"I thought so." Asking if she'd meant it would be pointless, someone like her wouldn't say a thing like that and not mean it. You are a perpetual ray of sunshine in my life. He felt the darkness lifting, wanted to run and hide behind Minerva again. "Cynthia, I-"
He was cut off again by her flinging her arms around his waist, burying her face against his chest with a contented giggle. He could feel every place her body touched his, warm and bright and scarily comforting.
"Keep coming to see me, okay? You don't need any silly excuses, even if you can't help me with speeches or anything I just want to be with you."
"...very well." He closed his eyes, let himself relax and returned her embrace. "From now on, I'll try to make more time for you, okay?" It was as close to admitting his feelings as he was going to get for now, but she seemed happy enough with it.
A little sunshine was good now and then, he supposed.